I've been quite absent from this space recently, and for good reason. In the last month, Patrick and I bought our first home and moved out of our tiny apartment into our beautiful new condo. On the same day that we closed on our home, Patrick's dad had an unexpected but successful quadruple bypass surgery. That day alone was a rollercoaster; we were so happy to be purchasing the first place our little family could call our own that morning, but within a few hours, all we could do was think about Patrick's dad, hope for a smooth procedure, and not-so-patiently wait for updates. I'm so grateful to say that everything went smoothly with the surgery, and that over the last few weeks, we've slowly but surely been making this home our own.

I have every intention of sharing more about our new home, the updates we're making to it, and how we're settling in, but for now, this is what I'll say: the last year and a half spent mostly secluded in an 850 square foot apartment with a newborn has been so, so difficult. There were three total windows in our apartment, two of which were in the bedrooms; between the lack of natural light, the dark walls, and the small space, I felt as though that apartment might just close in around me. Without having laundry in our unit, even the simplest household tasks felt so difficult to accomplish, and it felt like just functioning as a person, let alone a mother was nearly impossible. There were many days that I felt truly trapped within those walls, and that's not a feeling anyone should have in their own home. It feels really awful to complain while having perfectly safe housing, and I recognize how much of a first-world problem this is, but that apartment was truly taking a toll on my mental health. It worked for just the two of us, but our family outgrew it when Ruby was born, and we needed to move on. I finally feel like I can breathe and grow in my own home again, and I am so hopeful.

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